The Fall of Samantha Maxis
by SSG Dignam
Summary: What is Group 935?  What became of young Samantha Maxis?  And what are the four heroes searching for?  The answers are hidden within...  Rated T for intense, bloody violence and brief language.
1. Inception

**Author's Note: Treyarch owns everything you read here, except Erwin Rommel and the Luger and the Colt .45 as well as the OSS**

**Enjoy!**

The Fall of Samantha Maxis

Berlin, September 21, 1939

The banging on the door shook the doctor from his train of though. He reached for his weapon instinctively, his hand cradling the smooth wooden grip of his Luger in a shelf under his desk.

"Who is there?" he shouted, flicking off the safety of his sidearm. He suspected trouble.

"General Erwin Rommel!" The reply was short and crisp. "Unlock the door, Ludwig."

Ludwig Maxis sighed heavily, taking his hand off of his weapon. He walked toward the heavy oak door and turned the lock. As soon as he did, Rommel strode in, clad in his dress uniform, hat and all.

Maxis saluted, but Rommel patted Maxis on the shoulder and took a seat in the overstuffed guest chair. "We know each other too well for that kind of formality, my friend." Rommel now relaxed, leaning back and removing his hat.

Maxis shut the door and took a seat behind his desk, waiting for his long time acquaintance to begin.

"Well, Ludwig. I have news for you."

"Please do tell," Maxis leaned forward, interested. Rommel was a serious man. Good natured, but serious all the same. So when Rommel came all the way here to tell his former brother in arms that there was important news, it was to be taken very seriously.

Rommel removed an envelope from the pocket of his dress coat and placed it on the desk in a single motion, smiling while he did it. "The project had been approved. Congratulations, Doctor Maxis."

Maxis couldn't believe it. He tore open the envelope and read the executive order himself. The letter was short and non-descriptive, as the project was to be very secret.

_Doctor Ludwig Maxis,_

_I have read about your findings in Tunguska and I am intrigued by the possibility of what your have suggested. Therefore your request, despite requiring an exorbitant amount of manpower and resources, has been approved. You will be contacted when we are ready for you to begin. Congratulations, Doctor. You are about to make history. Make your country proud, Ludwig._

_Cordially, Adolf Hitler._

Maxis was in shock. There was no way his theory would every be accepted anywhere in the Fatherland, for that's what he was told by fellow scientists. And now he was about to make history.

Rommel extended a hand. "I will contact you when we are ready to begin. Let's make history, old friend."

Maxis grasped his hand firmly, his adrenaline pumping for the first time since his daughter was born.

With that, Rommel placed his hat back onto his thinning head of hair and walked out, shutting the door behind him.

Maxis paced around the room for several minutes, too exited to simply sit down, running all of the posibilities through his head. Eventually, he fell into a corner, holding the letter to his chest like it was a newborn child. He was never going to let go of the piece of paper that had changed his life forever.

_You are about to make history._

Washington D.C., September 22, 1939

The conference room was veiled in black, with the exception of the long Walnut table in the center, dimly illuminated by a pair of candles. The room was spotless, as it was scrubbed down after every meeting so that the public would never know of what transpired here. Two men sat opposite of one another in the darkness, unable to see each other's features, only enough to know that there was, in fact, another man in the room.

This was the point. Neither one was to ever know the identity of the other. The man on the left had been told that the man on the right was to be called Peter. Nothing more, just Peter. Consequently, the man on the right had been told that the man on the left was John. Just John. They had even entered the room at the exact same predetermined time to avoid any possible interaction.

Peter began in a slow drawl. "We have received word that Maxis was informed of the project yesterday."

John matched his monotone. "Very good. Are we to proceed as planned?"

"Yes. You are to travel to the Asylum tonight and await further instructions."

Peter reached down and grabbed an unmarked briefcase, sliding it across the table to John. John grabbed it and pulled it out of sight immediately.

"Godspeed, John."

With that the two of them left, neither one looking back.

John continued into the hallway outside, making for the exit. He already knew what was in the case.

There was a fake passport, means to contact the OSS, cash from a local slush fund, and a Colt .45.

John pulled on his trench coat and hat, tugging each of them as close to his person as he could as he walked out the front door. The clothing was German made, and he had perfected his German in the years of preparation for the next few months. It had all come down to this. He was heading towards the local train station to begin the first leg of his journey, taking a brisk pace to hurry through the rainy D.C. weather.

He was only thinking about one last thing. The .45 in his bag.

He had only eight rounds in the gun and no spare magazines. For if he got into a firefight, he had already failed his mission.

Seven rounds were for warding off attackers should he get ambushed. The final bullet would be for himself.

**Author's Note:Please comment and watch for more chapters!**


	2. The Giant

The Fall of Samantha Maxis

Near Breslau, December 28, 1939

Dr. Maxis could barely contain himself. He was giddy and eager like his daughter before Christmas, barely being able to wait a couple of hours for what was in store ahead.

A driver from the SS had picked him up, remaining silent the whole way there. The car Maxis was being transported in had blacked out windows in the rear and seats and a divider between the driver's seat and where Maxis was sitting, which was understandable given the circumstances and the risk that the project posed should he fail.

Suddenly, the car stopped.

The door was opened from the outside, letting in a blinding light that caused Maxis to squint.

"You can get out, now Doctor," a voice boomed from outside. As Maxis stepped out of the car, he found himself in a garage full of armored vehicles and German soldiers bustling to and fro, carrying crates made of solid lead. Maxis zeroed in on the crates. It took four burly soldiers just to carry one of the one square meter boxes. He grinned when he saw the number _115 _stenciled on each one.

Suddenly a hand was thrust in his direction.

He turned to the front of the car and saw a muscular soldier in an SS uniform, wearing full combat gear with an MP40 slung across his shoulder and a Luger on his belt.

"Kruger. _Oberschtonfuher_ (1st Lieutenant) Hans Kruger, sir. I have been assigned to your project as head of security."

He shook Kruger's hand. "An honor to meet you, Lieutenant," Maxis said, making a mental note to do a background check on the man after he was settled. Kruger led him out of the garage and into the sunlight outside.

Maxis gazed at the frantic construction around him, in awe of the respect his project was being given by the brass in Berlin.

Nearly a hundred men were building up the abandoned factory that the project was to be based in. Maxis saw metal re bar and new glass frames being added to ancient windows and dilapidated mounds of brick. A heavy iron fence had already been erected around the perimeter, nearly ten meters high with bright red signs warning of the 10,000 volts coursing through it every second of every day. In addition to the fence, there were several guard towers with sandbags heaped up in every direction, including the entrance, with the menacing barrels of MG-38's jutting out of the openings. Connecting these were several catwalks with high railings, with guards already pacing with rifles slung over their shoulders.

Little did any of them know that it would all be in vain.

"Excellent work, Chief," Maxis nodded to Kruger as the two of them made room for a troupe of SS guards who were busy unloading more of the Element 115 from the garage. Kruger nodded at them as they passed.

"So where are we, Chief?" Maxis asked, trying to keep up with the Lieutenant's brisk pace.

"We are close enough to society to run for help, but far enough away so that they won't hear us scream," Kruger answered as the two continued up a flight of stairs into an office building.

Kruger explained. "We are actually near an old mine, near the Czechaslovokian border, I think. Have you ever heard of Breslau?"

"Good. That puts it in perspective Chief. So are you concerned about the nature of the nature of the project or are you always this cautious?" Maxis asked, looking around at the various work stations set up inside of the facility, noting the cutting edge technology being used.

"You could say both. Luck tends to favor the prepared, Doctor."

Maxis nodded. "I requested that certain individuals be collected for the experiments-"

"They are en route as we speak, Doctor. We have also picked up your daughter. She will arrive as soon as my men have deemed the area safe for civilians."

Maxis was satisfied with the precautions taken by his head of security and the guaranteed safety for his young Samantha.

Kruger looked over his shoulder. "I have to go, sir. It was an honor meeting you and welcome to Group 935.

Breslau, "The Asylum", December 29, 1939

John cautiously stepped over the threshold of his new home for the next several years. The rustic gates and armed SS troopers were more than enough to keep suspisious onlookers away, and a large supply of people who couldn't talk even if they managed to escape was also comforting. He nodded to the security guard at the front gate, who kept an MP38 SMG on him as he walked to the checkpoint, slowly and deliberately, not wanting to frighten a man with an already eager trigger finger.

He nodded to the guard and slid his papers onto the desk in the security booth, keeping his hands in sight of the man the entire time. The guard was young, mid twenties with a blonde crewcut and a muscular frame. John could no doubt kill him in a heartbeat, before the man would be able to get a shot off, but he didn't flaunt his OSS training, not in this country.

John heard the scuffling of boots as two more troopers took up positions behind him, weapons drawn. He smiled despite the circumstances, refusing to lose his cool in front of a few young men who thought that they were superior in every way. He secretly despised fascism and what it had begun to do, but this project was more important than Germany or Europe, or even America for that matter.

The guard examined his papers thuroughly before looking up. "Welcome to the Asylum, Doctor John. Please, step inside."

The guard nodded him through and John walked in at a brisk pace, crossing the dilapidated yard in under a minute, catching looks from the German soldiers pacing within the grounds or on rooftops as he did.

There was much work to be done here if Group 935 was to proceed on schedule.


	3. Progression

The Fall of Samantha Maxis

"Der Riese"

Breslau, Germany

August 14, 1942

"Damn it! GODDAMN EVERYTHING!" Maxis screamed, grabbing a book off of his shelf and throwing it into the wall, as he had run out of other things to throw. His copy of Die Wahrheit(the truth) smacked the wall and tumbled to the floor.

At that moment, Richtofen ran in, followed by Kruger. Both of them had drawn their sidearms, expecting the worst.

Instead of a reanimated corpse munching on their chief scientist, they saw their chief scientist tearing apart his office in a rage.

Richtofen had been brought onto the project at the last minute by Maxis, against his better judgement. Maxis knew Richtofen's reputation enough to know that he would be a bad influence on the rest of the team, but was surprised by the sociopath's intelligence and work ethic in the field.

"Doctor, calm down," Richtofen holstered his weapon and put a hand on the man's shoulder. "Scientists fail experiments all of the time, Ludwig."

"Well I'm not any other scientist!" Maxis screamed, waving his hands in the air like he was about to do a tribal chant. "I was put on this project for one reason, Edward. One reason! To harness the power of Element 115 and test its capabilities. And the only thing we have been able to do is to turn a human test subject into a pile of mush!"

"He was successfully transported from one spot to a-"

"Don't talk to me about success, Edward! We're almost out of 115 and Hitler demands results faster than we can produce them!"

What Maxis said was true. The scientists of Group 935 had successfully developed a teleportation device powered by the mysterious Unupentium, or Element 115, as it was commonly called. The only problem: Unupentium was very dangerous and unpredictable, having already killed eight scientists when they first tried to use it to power Die Glocke,(The Bell) the bell-shaped network of teleportation devices that they had constructed all around the facility.

So far, five test subjects had been inserted into the teleporter. All had come back as human jello.

Then all was silent. Kruger stood in the doorway, not sure what to say, as he didn't want to send Maxis into a frenzy.

After a long moment, Richtofen spoke.

"Doctor, I meant for this to be a surprise to you, but I have been working on a project... secretly, I admit."

All eyes were on him as he spoke.

"I'm not sure what to call it, but I believe that I have invented something."

He spoke cautiously, not wanting to offend Maxis or Kruger.

"What is it, Edward?" Maxis asked in an eerily calm voice.

"It, um... It's a..."

"Spit it out, Richtofen," Kruger growled, growing impatient. He had not known of another project being developed within _his_ complex that could threaten _his_men by a man he didn't know. Maxis was surprised that he didn't detain Richtofen at that very moment.

"Come, you must see it to believe what I will tell you."

They followed Richtofen down the rusting staircases and dilapidated corridors of Der Riese to the lower levels. The air grew thick and heavy around them, circulating less and less as they descended. What little light there was shined dull yellow on the damp concrete and exposed rebar. Maxis couldn't believe that Richtofen had actually wanted to work in a place like this.

Richtofen certainly hid this well, Maxis thought as they opened a final steel door into Richtofen's workroom.

The room was a mess, with one wall made entirely of chalkboards covered in clusters of numbers and letters, and the other with an unmade bed and an oak dresser. Somewhere in the middle was a masive worktable, one that would normally be used for six people, covered in papers and various objects, ranging from a box of light bulbs to a small container of 115.

At the center, an oddly shaped weapon sat on a stand. It was the size of a rifle, with the stock of the Kar 98, only without the barrel or bolt. Clusters of glass orbs were fixed into a crude metal body, ending with what appeared to be an energy projector where the muzzle should have been.

Maxis and Kruger stared in awe. Nothing like this had ever been devised, a weapon built around 115 Unupentium ammunition.

Maxis was at a loss for words.

"Have you tested it?" Kruger asked, eying the device suspiciously.

"Well, yes. Actually once or twice," Richtofen admitted.

Maxis picked up Richtofen's new weapon, feeling the weight. It was no heavier than a service rifle, and seemed like a perfect fit in his hands. He discovered the worn walnut carved into a smooth handgrip and the large battery unit in front of the trigger were custom made by hand, a feat that would have taken anyone else years to accomplish. Yet Richtofen had done it in a matter of months.

Kruger stepped forward and ran his fingers along the prongs at the business end of the weapon, nodding with satisfaction. Kruger was a gun fanatic, as he always wore the latest models of weapons at his hip or over his shoulder, proud of his hobby. He was doing his best not to snatch the weapon from Maxis's hands and parade it throughout the base, chanting as he did so.

Maxis pried himself away from it and handed it to Kruger, who shouldered the weapon and aimed down the prongs, as the sights were virtually non-existant.

Richtofen was beaming with pride in the corner. He knew he had cured the dry spell of research at Der Riese, at least temporarily.

Kruger picked up a box of 115 shells from the table, loading the gun without needing instructions. Each of the bullets was shaped like a light bulb, able to be inserted on a slide along the side of the weapon.

He turned to Richtofen and Richtofen nodded, giving him permission to test the weapon.

He aimed for a Ops Field Manual lying on a chair at the opposite end of the room.

He gritted his teeth and pressed the weapon into the crook of his shoulder, prepared for the kick of a mule.

He squeezed the trigger.

A burst of raw 115 exploded out of the end of the gun in a tremendous flash of blue. There was virtually no kick, just a hot release of electricity and raw God-Knows-What reaching out and grabbing the chair and the manual with long blue fingers.

By the time the three of them regained their vision, there was nothing left of the target.

"Der Riese"

Breslau, Germany

August 17, 1942

Mitra watched from his post atop the barrier as Maxis and Richtofen informed their fellow scientists of the progress of the "Wunderwaffe DG-2" and the shortage of 115 at the base.

He knew that they would request more, and that the request would be carried out by Group 935 sleeper agents in Nevada, as they would give Maxis the 115 that he needed from Area 51, the top secret facility in America. The secret was the sheer amount of Unupentium that they had in stock, a near endless supply in a nearly endless warehouse deep in the desert, hidden from the public eye.

Johann Mitra was born in Munich in 1906, raised in a middle class home in the middle of the city. His birth records were destroyed in a tragic fire caused by a local gang when Mitra was seventeen, putting him off of the grid and making him a free man. He was free to do as he pleased and never risk being charged as Johann Mitra, the son of a respectable businessman. He was recruited by a small group of lawyers who protested the Treaty of Versailles to spy on the occupiers, earning the nickname "Geist" (ghost)

After five years of the life of an informent, he traveled to America under a false name, still posessing the innate the ability to spy on others without being detected.

However, he was intercepted almost immediately by an American agent who had identified himself as John and made an offer he couldn't refuse: he would join Hitler as he rose to power and keep tabs on his plans, informing him and another agent named Peter every step of the way. Eventually, Peter had used his political leverage to get Mitra attached to Maxis's team as a security trooper.

As long as the cash kept flowing, Mitra didn't think twice about informing for the Americans.

After the speech was over he would send a message to Peter: The project was back on schedule.


	4. The World is Gray

"The Asylum"

Breslau, Germany

November 2, 1942

The patient screamed in pain, threatening to snap the restraints off of the chair he was seated in as he was injected with a concentrated dose of pure 115. The thick, metallic syringe was inserted into his neck, emptying 40cc's of Unupentium into his bloodstream. 115 was not a liquid under natural circumstances, but they had managed to concoct a solution that could be injected into the bloodstream and not kill the subject in the process. John watched with utter fascination.

The man was a lunatic to begin with, but now he was a true madman, his eyes turning a burnt red, then yellow as his shrill cries echoed through the Asylum. Half a dozen SS guards were stationed in the room, MP40's zeroed in on the test subject. Three more were outside, just in case of trouble.

John felt his hand reach for the Colt at his side, but he relaxed after the restraints held, despite tugging and squirming from the seated man. The man seemed to decompose before him, looking like a man six months dead yet fighting as if he was still alive. His fingernails hardened into razor sharp claws, digging into the metal arm rests of the chair. His cries changed from human curses to inaudible shrieks directed at the guards.

John loved and hated the fact that he remained in the chair. The whole point of this experiment was to test the strength of a subject enhanced with 115. The man had become stronger, yes. But he was still unable to escape his chair. Inside, John was relieved that the thing wouldn't get away and endanger his life and the lives of the men around him.

The restraints were being pulled apart, fiber by fiber, as the thing struggled for thirty straight minutes, and then fell back into the chair, having given up on living.

In some ways, John felt sorry for the lives taken to develop the project, as they were helpless and didn't know any better.

In a more human way, he knew that he wasn't truly a good guy or a bad guy.

He was one of the gray guys in between that kept the world going around so that people who called themselves _good_ or _bad_ could continue to fight for what they they believed in. He did what he did because others would choke on the choices like this with no positive outcome, they would hesitate in doing what needed to be done. He had to do it because all of the rest of the free world had been taught that they should never put themselves in such a situation, and had seen enough acting and media to pretend that they would have to _weep_ whenever they were.

John took several deep breaths, slowing down his frantic heart rate. He reached over and switched on a tape recorder.

"Alright. Test subject 26 was given a more heavily concentrated dose of Unupentium than the first batch, yet did not possess the strength necessary to break out of restraints or the intelligence follow basic commands. We are one step closer to achieving our goal, but we must alter our methods before continuing."

He turned to the Staff Sergeant in the room and nodded.

A short burst of fire crackled from his MP40, silencing the patient.

John motioned for the scrub team to remove the body and sterilize the room. They still had much work to do if they were to make the super soldiers that they had promised to Hitler.

Maxis's Quarters

"Der Riese"

November 11, 1942

"Thankyou! Thankyou! Thankyou! Thankyou!" Samantha yelped with joy, the little fur ball cuddling up to her, wet nose sniffing her cheek.

Maxis grinned, watching his daughter enjoying her present. He had always wanted to spend more time with his Samantha and was ashamed that his work took such a toll on his personal life, as his wife had left him many years ago.

"Now, Samantha. You must be very diligent with her. Feed her and take good care of her every day, and treat Fluffy like you would a human. You know, she is expecting puppies," Maxis sweetened the pot, knowing his daughter would be thrilled.

"Really? Can we keep them too, daddy?" Samantha's innocent blue eyes welled up in anticipation.

"We'll see, Samantha."

Ludwig Maxis had tried to be a good father to his young girl. She really was brilliant and beautiful, holding an important part in the Thrird Reich's future. Every weekend he could come home, he would always play with her, taking the role of the Monkey to her Teddy Bear, enjoying a tea party in the safety of their own home. She loved stuffed animals, the old bears and the cymbal monkeys that nobody else would want to play with.

But more than those, she loved playing games; loved moving pieces around a board, making desicions and accepting the consequences.

Maxis had no idea of the game she would play.

Only this time the game would be real.

Richtofen's Quarters

"Der Riese"

November 11, 1942

Richtofen was pacing around the room, again and again. Back and forth. Back and forth.

The voices were speaking to him, not one, but many distinct voices all chattering in his head.

He had removed the 115 from his quarters a long time ago, but the effect of handling it without proper safety precautions had struck a crippling blow against an already questionable psychology. He had perfected the Wunderwaffe, presenting it to Maxis and displaying it for all of the others to see. But admitting to schizophrenia would overshadow all of it, and put his accomplishments to waste.

He couldn't get the voices out of his head. They wouldn't shut up, no matter what he said to them.

They were the voices of his victims, those he tortured mercilessly were speaking to him, even while he slept, invading his dreams and thinking his thoughts for him while he slept.

They just wouldn't go away.

Somehow he had to make them stop.


	5. die Glocke

Fall of Samantha Maxis

"Der Riese",

Breslau, Germany

March 27, 1943

"Bring me another!" Maxis shouted, watching with disgust as the deformed corpse was dragged away by a pair of burly guards. It was hauled over to a makeshift pile of zombified bodies and dumped in on six previous subjects.

Maxis rempoed his glassed and rubbed his eyes. This wasn't going well.

They had managed to get a person from one spot to a totally different one with the use of the teleporters, but the subjects would not come back as humans.

Upon arrival, they would look like corpses that could barely walk, with glowing yellow eyes and wicked claws extending from their hands. Maxis soon discovered that the subjects would actually _die_ while being teleported due to the sheer amount of energy flowing around them. But they would be reanimated by the 115 and come back to life as mindless husks, incapable of taking orders or even basic hand eye coordination.

Maxis was truly upset. The Reichstag had been postponing the production of the DG2 for several months now, probably due to fears of Element 115's capabilities. And now Hitler was demanding super soldiers to help take back the Eastern Front from the Russians, who were pushing against German defenses.

Group 935 could get a few hundred of them on the front lines, but the zombies were too unpredictable, too violent, and too strong to be controlled. My god, are they strong, Maxis thought.

After attemping to lock one in a cell a few nights ago, the guards were startled a few minutes later when it was tearing up the floorboards with its bare hands, trying to dig its way out of the prison.

It was moved to a metal cell, along with twenty other test subjects who were now monsters.

Before the teleporters could be perfected, Group 935 was at a standstill. The SS liason had told Maxis that "another team" would handle the super soldier project. His job was to produce the Wunderwaffes and try to send a human through one end of die Glocke and out the other without turning it into a corpse.

"Another team my ass," Maxis spat, shaking his head. Kruger stood with him atop a metal catwalk, which ran the entire length of one of the room's vast walls. They were facing the teleporter, with scientists feverishly checking and rechecking the supply of 115 and the connection to the Base Pad in between tests, scurrying around in white labcoats and cradling precious equipment.

Two more SS troopers stood on either side of Kruger and Maxis, stock straight with MG42's slung across their shoulders. Kruger had rearmed his staff with high caliber weapons and razor sharp bowie knives, not one to take chances. In fact, there were ten troopers standing against either side of the room, overseeing the experiments. More were stationed at the Pad, watching from above as the subjects were dropped out of the void and onto the landing pad, where they would drag the subject to the alleyway in front of the building and let Maxis do his song and dance with the mutalated corpse before shooting it and repeating the routine.

They had been at this all night, calibrating and recalibrating and testing while the moon cast a dim light from above.

Maixs looked up at the catwalk, nodding at Mitra, who stood with his sniper rifle overseeing the testing. Maxis had confidence in the young man. He was trustworthy, vigilant, and an absolute crack shot with his repeating rifle, a PTRS Russian model.

Mitra shouldered the massive weapon, ready for the next test.

"YOU! BRING THE NEXT ONE IN!" Kruger's voice boomed at a pair of guards standing next to a rusted door.

They dragged it open and stepped inside, bringing with them a Russian prisoner, with his hands bound behind his back and a burlap sack pulled over his head. Maxis was grateful that he didn't have to see the prisoner's face before he mutilated him, as that would give him nightmares.

"Doctor! The machine is ready! We are using a lower concentration of 115 this time around!" Edward Richtofen's voice cried from his position behind one of the consoles.

"Good! This is our last trial tonight, gentlemen!" Maxis announced through his loudspeaker. Sighs of relief from the staff could be heard all around the facility. It was nearly 2:00 AM, and they were all fatigued from a long day of research and analysis.

The pair of guards threw the Russian into the teleporter like a sack of flour, leaving him struggling on the floor of the test chamber.

"Subject is in the test chamber," Maxis mumbled, scribbling in his notebook before proceeding.

"We are all ready! Let's make them proud!" Richtofen spoke in his tentative voice to Maxis. Maxis believed that he had meant the Reichstag.

But he had no idea how wrong he really was.

"NOW" Maxis shouted, his voice was hoarse from screaming orders all day.

The whirling sound of the teleporter powering up echoed throughout the building. Suddenly, a series of blue bolts flowed from top to bottom of the chamber before a blinding flash as the 115 was ignited, transporting the subject away from the chamber. The sound of the teleportation itself reminded Maxis of water gurgling through rusted pipes, only a thousand times louder.

Then the man was gone.

Maxis blinked several times, seeing spots for several seconds.

"Subject has arrived at the Pad," Mitra radioed in from his post, as he was the only one who could see both the teleporter and the Pad at the same time. "Our men have him. He's on the way. That was a smooth test doctor, no delay this time," he commented.

"At the ready!" Kruger shouted. The platoon of soldiers raised their weapons, ranging from automatics to shotguns, and awaited the newest victim.

Kruger took the safety off of his own trenchgun and held it at his hip. Maxis unsnapped his holster along with Richtofen, ready for trouble.

There were very few things Ludwig Maxis was truly scared of, as he could understand most irrational fears and discredit them. But the one thing he was afraid of more than anything was a zombie mauling him to death. He feared the slow death by stabbing and biting that it would give him, and even more the notion that he would also become one, part of a legion of mindless animals.

He shuddered at the thought.

Six guards flanked the Russian POW like bookends as he was hauled toward them, unmoving. They dropped him in the middle of the alley for all to see, the bag still covering his head.

The all but one of the guards stepped back, forming a loose circle around the body, weapons drawn. The remaining trooper drew his bowie knife and slashed the ropes binding the test subject and quickly pulled the bag off of his head, jumping backward and drawing his Walther P-38 in the same moment.

But the subject wasn't a zombie. Before them was a terrified Russian soldier, looking around at all of the weapons pointed at him.

One by one the guards lowered their guns, in shock.

"My god. I never thought I would live to see the day," Maxis stared in awe.

They had done it.

"Maxis, you did it!" Kruger shouted in surprise.

The entire staff burst into applause, congratulating Maxis on his accomplishment. Maxis began to cry tears of joy, overwhelmed by his sudden success.

However, one person did not cheer.

One person who deserved just as much praise as Maxis did. He had suggested the calibration for the successful test. He had invented the Wunderwaffe. He would be more glorious than Maxis ever was.

Oh yes, Edward Richtofen would have his day. And when he did, the voices would set him free.


	6. Divine Madness

**Wow! Thank you all for the feedback so far! Enjoy!**

"Der Riese"

Breslau, Germany

April 14, 1943

Dr. Richtofen's world burned.

He paced back and forth in the dim light of his work station below Der Riese, unable to sleep.

_Edward, you deserve the glory._

_Maxis is nothing._

_You will be remembered by every child as a god._

The voices were screaming in his head now. He had been able to control them for several weeks, but seeing Maxis be revered and rewarded like a deity had opened the floodgate, pouring vile thoughts and wicked urgings into his mind. And, oddly enough, they all were saying the same thing:

_Silence Maxis forever._

He looked around his home for the past year, trying to concentrate.

There were papers flowing out of drawers and cupboards, sketches for the DG-2 hanging on the wall, and his Luger handgun resting on the table in its holster. To the left was his bed and a single dresser with his labcoaats and uniforms.

Maxis was going to take credit for everything wasn't he? He was going to leave my name as an italicized caption in die Wahrheit, just another Nazi who had been working on the project with him. That bastard would, wouldn't he?

_Oh yes, he would Edward_.

He would let me rot here in this _zoo_, this _prison_, this sick _reality _that had become of my life, Richtofen thought. Even the Russian that they had experimented on would be better known than he. His name was Gersch, and he had been taken away by Group 935 agents in the middle of the night, presumably to be executed and buried in an unmarked grave somewhere, but Richtofen seriously doubted that to be the truth. Nobody told the truth in this line of work.

And now he was to be shipped to a "Site B", where he would continue experiments by himself in exile. A mysterious Group 935 administrator had sent a coded message the day before ordering Richtofen to travel to a Site B to continue his work on the DG-2. It was in the Pacific, some anonymous island that no one had ever heard of where he would probably be stuck for the rest of the war.

He made up his mind. What he was about to do next would change the course of history forever.

He ran to his desk and began scribbling on a scrap piece of paper furiously, copying his executive order down so that he could burn the original. No survivors or anyone else who stumbled upon the ruins of der Riese twenty years from now could know where he had gone.

Oh yes, he would bring The Giant to its knees tonight.

Next, Richtofen found a scrap piece of pipe and began to shape it into his own creation, slowly carving and shaping to the exact cylindrical shape that he wanted. When he was done, he attached it to the barrel of his Luger and tested it on a portrait of Maxis.

The bullet shattered the picture, but nobody outside the room would ever know it.

He was so _excited_! This would be marvelous, even more so than the DG-2 or die Glocke or the Pack-A-Punch machine, which he had perfected, but Maxis's name was the one on the patent.

The only thing Maxis had been able to do on his own was the Perk Machines, which were only a small achievement compared to all that Richtofen had done in his time with Group 935.

He knew right where his dearest enemy would be, experimenting on his daughter's dog, a pregnant Fluffy. He just didn't stop stepping on toes, did he? Sick bastard.

Richtofen set a brisk pace through the warm spring air on his way to his supervisor's workstation, the Luger tucked firmly in his holster and the paper folded in the pocket of his uniform. That was all he needed.

He nodded and smiled at the guards, most of whom were high on one or more of the Perks and took no notice of him, nodding back absently. The Perk machines were instructed to be used sparringly, but that didn't happen, either.

He threw open the door to the teleporter that Maxis was working on, beaming.

Maxis looked up from his work. "It's about damn time, Edward," he said in a condescending tone, checking his watch.

_Oh yes, it is time. Isn't it Ludwig?_

_"_Subject: Fluffy. Time: 1600 Hours..." Maxis rattled off information into the tape recorder, preparing to put the dog inside the chamber.

_Way to be a father, Ludwig. _Richtofen giggled as the voices mocked Maxis right in front of him.

Richtofen watched as Maxis activated the teleporter with a flash of blinding light. Richtofen pretended to be doing work behind a desk, flicking the safety off of his pistol as the teleporter was activated. When the beast returned, it was now a Hellhound, as the animal would look at home in Satan's domain with its glowing eyes and exposed spinal cord. It looked long dead, as all of the previous test subjects had looked before the system had been perfected _by Richtofen_

Richtofen looked into the beast's fiery eyes. It was not unlike himself: Full of hate and never given its dues. Well now they both would have their chance to shine.

Samantha ran to Fluffy, foolish enough to believe that she wouldn't get torn apart. Maxis threw himself between the Hellhound and Samantha, screaming at Samantha to get back.

That was cute, he was actually showing courage.

But even his selfless display of humanity couldn't save him from Richtofen.

Richtofen rose from his seat and gave his former boss a little_ push, _shoving him and his little girl into the teleporter with the zombified hound. He locked the door, leaning up against it. Maxis's cries for help were music to his ears. He relished in total control of the man who had ruined his name before smacking the switch to activate the teleporter, with Samantha and Maxis trapped inside with the dearly loved Fluffy. No doubt Fluffy would enjoy a little snack on his way to oblivion.

"Goodbye, Doctor Maxis."

SS Barracks

"Der Riese"

1800 Hours

Hans Kruger stood out on the catwalk outside the crew's quarters, enjoying a smoke.

He wasn't an addict, he just enjoyed the simple pleasues of this life once in a while, he would tell others. It was peaceful to be away from the noise and on his own once in a while, he thought as he took another long drag of his cigerette. Being paranoid for a living isn't easy.

He looked up and nodded to Mitra, who was pacing with his sniper rifle above. Mitra cast him a salute before continuing on with his dog watch.

Mitra would have his back always. He was vigilant and an excellent shot, and a silent companion for Kruger when trouble would arise.

He was a careful man, always doing perimeter checks when he walked outside and keeping his machine pistol and handgun on his person.

He wasn't the one who set the zombies loose, but he would one of the many to pay the price for it.

Holding Cells

"Der Riese"

1800 Hours

There were four guards on duty at all times, operating in shifts to cover all hours of the day in case a zombie were to get loose from a cell.

Richtofen knew this long before he went down there, and was prepared.

The guard behind the service desk looked bored, pouring over a magazine that was over three months old. He straightened up.

"Doctor, nice to see you. Where's your armed escort?"

"Right here," Richtofen said as he drew his Luger and shot the young man through the head with his sound-suppressed pistol.

The other guards turned at the faint whizzing noise and were hit between the eyes before the image of a traitorous Richtofen registered in their brains.

Richtofen leaned over the security desk and pulled the master switch, opening up all of the cells at once.

"Oops!" Richtofen laughed as he ran off into the night.

**Thanks for reading! And yes, this extensive backstory will explain _all_ of the zombie maps, even Nacht der Untoten and "Five"**


	7. Fall of The Giant

SS Barracks

"Der Riese"

April 14, 1943

Kruger slid the pack of cigarettes back into the pocket of his uniform, taking a last look at the full moon above him before going inside.

His hand reached for the door, but hesitated when it curled around the knob. He heard something inside.

It sounded like footsteps, but they were inconsistant as if whoever they belonged to was walking with a limp. His men inside were still laughing as they played poker, so it couldn't be anything bad, right?

Then he heard screaming. Horrible screaming. It wasn't human, but the gunfire was.

He grabbed his MP40 off of his back and took the safety off. This was going to get ugly.

He ripped open the door with his left hand, keeping his gun leveled with his right. His jaw dropped at the horrifying scene in front of him.

The zombies were loose in the barracks, nearly a dozen of them, blood soaked and yellow eyed. The half a dozen guards at the table were now sprawled out on the floor, mauled to death. The rest of them were running out of the barracks at full speed in an attempt to escape.

One was on the floor, being eaten alive, still pumping the trigger of his sidearm, the shots as wild as the spurts of blood erupting from his chest.

Kruger raised his weapon and fired indiscriminately, spraying the entire barracks with lead.

The bullets tore the zombies limb from limb, dropping them to the floor alongside the guards they had killed.

Suddenly, one rose up right in front of him, the one who had been munching on a corporal the minute before.

"Shit!" Kruger screamed as the zombie's arm raised up and prepared to strike with its wicked claws.

Suddenly a bullet whizzed past Kruger's head and struck the zombie center mass, throwing it onto one of the bunkbeds.

Kruger turned to see Mitra on the ledge above him, PTRS smoking.

Kruger quickly reloaded his weapon and unsnapped the holster for his sidearm. He then ran to the wall and pulled the alarm.

Warning bells and flashing lights erupted all over der Riese, waking the sleeping scientists and the drowsy men on dog watch.

Kruger grabbed the microphone next to the alarm.

"THE ZOMBIES ARE LOOSE! ALL UNITS, WEAPONS FREE! WEAPONS FREE!" he screamed before running down the stairwell himself. Behind him, the dead guards were starting to rise up, infected by their murderers.

Kruger threw open the door to the outside, trying to find a way to contain the monsters. But it was too late.

Outside, scientists screamed as they were ripped apart by the horde of undead husks. Giant searchlights lit up the facility, casting light on the chaos.

Kruger turned just in time to see a zombie running at him, full speed from the Pack-A-Punch machine.

He let loose a burst of fire, taking its arm off and dropping it dead, for real this time. Okay, Kruger thought. At least we can kill them easily.

Finally, the troopers were returning fire, with overlapping bursts lighting up the facility. From the catwalks, MG42's rained hot lead on the beasts, turning their bodies to mush in a matter of seconds. The gun crews were firing nonstop at anything that moved, not taking any chances with anyone who could be infected. Mitra was keeping up the fire as well, the crack of his rifle somehow audible over all of the other noise.

"Help!"a Sergeant shouted, holding an empty G43 in one hand and the other pumping as he ran from a crowd of zombies.

Kruger fired into the crowd, turning the heads of the first two to bloody pulps and severing the arms of the next one in line.

Finally, the Sergeant spun around with his pistol, firing alongside Kruger, blowing the zombies apart.

"Come with me!" Kruger ordered. "We have to rally the survivors and get the hell out of here!"

The two reloaded and ran toward the gate, finding an additional scienist with an MP40 and a squad of SS troopers who weren't dead or infected.

Kruger lead them to the gate, which was shut. It was even refusing to budge when one of the men slammed the switch repeatedly.

"The power's out!" one of the men screamed. "We're trapped!"

"No!" Kruger shouted, beating the re bar with his machine pistol as if that would somehow get them out.

He looked up at the catwalk above, the only place in der Riese that the zombies had not overrun. "Mitra! Mitra!"

But the gun crews were still going strong, the MG fire covering up Kruger's words.

Then Mitra saw a shadow climbing up the catwalk, making its way to the gun crews over head. Kruger blinked, thinking that he had been halucinating, but it was still there, with several more behind it.

And all of the figures' eyes were glowing bright yellow.

"Oh my god!" Kruger whispered. "They just don't stop."

He looked around. The infection spread quickly, as nearly everyone but his squad and the dozen men above were now part of the growing horde.

He grabbed the man with the G43 and spun him so that he faced the catwalk.

"Shoot them down!" he ordered.

It took a moment for the man to spot the shapes of zombies scaling the wall, now only a few meters from the railing. When he did, he raised the only weapon in the squad accurate enough to hit them at that distance and fired, starting at top of the group.

"Cover him!" Kruger ordered. The other six men raised MP40's, Lugers, and even a trench gun to ward off the zombies closing in on them, as the horde was almost out of other targets.

A few seconds later, the rifleman tapped Kruger on the shoulder.

"I'm out of ammunition!" he cried.

Kruger looked back up at the bracing that the zombies were making short work of, seeing only half of the number he had earlier.

"Everyone fire!" he ordered, pointing frantically at the zombies that had nearly reached the catwalk.

"What about us?" the man with the trench gun demanded.

"Forget us! They're the only ones who might survive this!"

Immediately, all eight of them fired everything they had at the crowd of zombies, knocking two off with sprays of red within seconds.

Then one was right in front of the MG nest, his head nearly over the sandbags. His freakish hand shot out and grabbed the gunner by the throat and ripped him out of the nest, letting him fall sixty feet to the earth below. Then he stepped over the sandbags and charged at the rest of the team. Two others were close behind him.

It was over. Der Riese was going to be history in a matter of moments.

Kruger turned and caught a spray of hot red mist as he did. The men in front of him were already dead.

He ripped the bowie knife from his belt and swung wildly, tearing the heads off of two approaching zombies in an instant.

But seven more were already on top of Kruger, claws tearing into him, drawing blood from his neck and sides.

In his last moments, Kruger pulled the pin off of a grenade on his belt, the explosion taking the zombies around him straight to hell.

Above, Mitra swung his empty PTRS like a bat, the stock connecting with a zombie's head and throwing it off of the walkway.

Suddenly a zombie's teeth clamped down on his shoulder from behind.

Mitra squealed as he buried his knife into the zombie's temple, hurling it aside with his good arm.

He was down to his last option: Jump from sixty feet above the ground to the other side of the perimeter fence.

He threw himself across the two meter gap between the walkway and the barrier, grabbing the sheet metal and swinging himself over, his feet and functional arm fitting between the cracks.

He slowly made his way down, letting go at ten feet above the grassy earth.

Somehow, Mitra willed his battered body to its feet and started limping down the road, leaving der Riese and its demonic spawn behind. He had a serious bite wound on his shoulder and a torn muscle in his right leg, but he would survive the night. The only other survivor.

Group 935 had given him the location of The Asylum before he had gone to der Riese. That was where he could go and get a message to Peter.


	8. Nacht der Untoten

"Der Riese"

Breslau, Germany

April 14, 1943

The 115 lit up the chamber like a roman candle, the heat and energy filling the small space. The ungodly noise of the teleporter activating was deafening to Samantha. The world glowed bright blue around the three individuals as their world disappeared from under their feet.

Samantha closed her eyes, expecting Fluffy to maul her and her father, who was now protecting her.

Then Samantha's world shattered like glass, sending her father into oblivion, hurtling into the dark blue void beyond.

"Daddy!" Samantha cried. But he was already gone, leaving her and Fluffy alone as they spun around and around, making Samantha lose track of time as they flew into nothingness. There was nothing but darkness and silence all around as Samantha floated in space, Fluffy howling in rage beside her.

Inside she felt rage too. She had lost her father to the man that he had called Edward, who had been a friend to her when her father was working. Her father trusted that man and so had she. Her little heart couldn't take all of the hate that was consuming her.

Samantha Maxis's soul was broken in two.

There was only one place that she could think of that she would be safe. One place she could go where it might seem alright.

But then she thought of revenge. Only revenge. A place where she could plot to rid the world of Edward once and for all.

Suddenly, she was in her room again, with the teddy bears stacked up just as she had left them and her monkey tucked under her blankets just so. It was so calm and peaceful here.

Her bedroom.

She blinked and looked again. She was in her room, but it was different. There was a giant teddy standing againt one wall, with the rest slaughtered at its feet, forming a bloody mess on the floor. And then she saw her gameboard in the corner, and Edward was on it. His piece was slowly moving right, toward the drawing of a town. He wasn't the only piece on the board, as several more were present, resembling the zombies that her father had created.

Suddenly, Fluffy nuzzled up against her, his decomposing body was somehow comforting to Samantha.

Oh yes, this place would be the perfect place to plot revenge.

She reached down and pushed the little pieces toward the town og Breslau, toward Edward and the German soldiers waiting for her.

_Your move, Edward_.

Breslau Countryside

Germany

April 14, 1943

David Morrison's world consisted of a broken windscreen, a tangled harness, and blood welling at his waist.

Just moments ago the young pilot had been flying in formation with the other B-52's coming back from a bombing run on a weapons depot.

Then in a cloud of smoke and a sudden lightning storm the planes had lost power and had simply fallen out of the sky like wingless birds.

He was fighting to keep himself from passing out. Morrison would have promised anyone that a fall like that would have killed him, but he was still alive, pinned underneath a twisted wreck of metal and shattered glass.

Suddenly a rifle barrel came through one of the busted panes of glass, resting on Morrison's head. The metal was so cold that he shivered at its touch.

He heard shouting in German as the barrel was retracted and several pairs of hands reached around the glass, removing the remaining parts between Morrison and the night.

As soon as there was a sizable hole, a pair of hands grabbed Morrison and hauled him out of the cockpit and onto his feet.

He looked up to see a German soldier with a semi automatic rifle standing in front of him, with several more close by. There were other men with them, though. They weren't soldiers, unless the Germans had began issuing plad shirts and overalls to their troops.

The civilians outnumbered the Nazis two to one, clutching double barrel shotguns and outdated Kar 98's, looking frightened. Their faces were ghostly white in the moonlight.

Another soldier stepped forward, speaking broken english.

"Du! American! Was is happening to zis place?"

"I have nothing to say to you, you Nazi bastard."

Morrison was prepared for a bullet or a rifle stock to the teeth, but nothing came.

"Ve have to get inside! They are coming!" he led Morrison to a bombed out house farther into the foggy countryside. Morrison guessed that it had been hit by an American bomber in one of the countless air raids, but was somehow standing.

A German soldier was leaning out of the door.

"Hurry up! They have almost found us!" he yelled as he bolted back inside.

Their crowd hurried in and someone handed Morrison a Tommy Gun.

"You soldier, yes?" a German asked frantically as he began throwing up boards to cover the windows and empty doorways with the rest of them.

Morrison didn't know what to think. They were on opposite sides of the same war and now they wanted him to help them with something. For a moment he considered taking his chances and trying to run, but he knew they would cut him down before he left the building.

Suddenly, a shrill cry split the night. Morrison looked past the Germans frantically boarding up windows and into the foggy night. Where there had been nothing the minute before there was now a horde of shapes.

Shapes moving in every direction. Shapes rising out of the ground. Shapes limping steadily towards the house that they were in.

"What are they?" Morrison demanded.

"Der Untoten!" a farmer screamed, hastily loading his rifle.

"What?"

"The undead!" the leader of the party shouted. "They began rising up out of the earth and pouring into our camp. Has anyone heard from the garrison at Breslau or the other outpost?"

"No! The men at the outpost are dead! We're the only thing standing between them and the town!"

The hideous figures came into sight, decomposing monsters with bright yellow eyes that were like searchlights in the darkness. And everyone knew exactly what they were searching for.

Morrison and the others raised their weapons at the windows.

The shapes weren't afraid of the thought of death. They had already died once, and didn't care about the thought of going through it again.

To Morrison's right a man was writing _help_ on the wall. He was taking his time, going slowly.

When Morrison looked back, the figures were running, no, sprinting at him.

There were untold hundreds in the fog. What the hell were they and how did they get there? Morrison didn't know, but he was going to kill them just the same.

There were more and more coming, limping toward the windows. Their bony hands were outstretched and ready to grab human flesh and tear it apart.

Morrison raised his Thompson and the other Germans did the same, shotguns and rifles covering the windows.

"Fire!"

The gunfire echoed defiantly in the night.

But soon all was silent.

Washington D.C.

OSS HQ

Communications room.

Peter was on the horn with his intelligence assets before the freaks had even left the perimeter of der Riese.

Peter had experience coping with defeat, but this was unprecidented. Something like this was impossible, he and Kruger had made sure of it.

Finally he got a secure frequency and was hollering at B52 pilots stationed in Britain.

"115 contingency is in effect! Destroy the Breslau countryside, but leave the facility intact!"

"Sir," the pilots voice was shakey. "There are civilians-"

"I don't give a damn who is down there! Kill them all!" Peter screamed, closing the channel before the pilot would try to argue morals with him.

This would be contained. Group 935 would survive.


	9. Verruckt

April 15, 1943

"The Asylum"

Near Breslau, Germany

Mitra stumbled towards the rusted gates of the Asylum, drenched in sweat. A makeshift bandage was on his shoulder, doing little to stop the flow of blood from the bite wound the zombie had given him.

The guards kept their weapons leveled until Mitra produced an identification card that belonged only to members involved with the project. The head of security nodded and signaled to let Mitra through. The gates crawled open as the guards parted for Mitra to pass.

Mitra collapsed into the arms of the nearest guard, feeling nautious and ready to throw up. The bite was throbbing, waves of pain were flooding his nervous system.

"Get him inside!" the head of security ordered.

In minutes they had Mitra in bandages, giving him morphine and examining his wound.

They set Mitra in the barracks, giving him an empty bunk and extra pillows to prop him upright.

The security chief and several other leaned in close, listening intently to Mitra's account of what happened at der Riese.

"So how did they get loose?" the security chief asked, afraid that he himself had not taken the appropriate precautions.

"I don't know. But it wasn't on accident, sir. Their individual cells all opened at the_ exact same time_. I don't think its a coincidence that they all broke out in the same exact moment."

"Neither do I, Mitra. Have you heard from anyone else who survived?"

"No. No word from Maxis, Richtofen, or any of Kruger's men. I think it's safe to say that they didn't survive the night."

Mitra's words echoed in the small space, making the five men around him silent as the night.

"There were reports over the radio, actually. The Americans bombed the countryside of Breslau. Destroyed it." another soldier spoke up.

_Peter_. he must have had his men bomb it to contain the incident.

"I want to speak with John. I know he is here."

"Of course. I'll tell him you're here." one of the men jogged back toward the main building.

John was in the radio room, squaking at his contacts on all fronts, demanding information. His face was bright red, his voice growing hoarse from shouting orders and receiving bits of information from different people.

_That's the hardest part of my job_, John reasoned. _I only get a little bit from my contacts and have to put together a rough picture from it_. _For a spy, I really do hate puzzles_.

The radio operators knew better than to stand in his way, letting him run around and following orders without question.

The security man burst in.

"Sir. I-"

"WHAT!" John turned and screamed in his face. John was also drenched in sweat and looking weary.

"Whoever or whatever is running this universe has just brought a shitstorm down on _my_ operation. Do you know what that means?" he demanded.

The soldier stayed silent.

"It means trouble for _me_, soldier. It means millions of taxpayer's dollars to cover damages and keep people quiet and snuff those who won't keep quiet. That is what I'm dealing with right now. There had better be a goddamed black hole about to suck us up and nothing less important for you to to interrupt me right now. Now spit it out!"

"Sir, there's a soldier here who survived the incident at der Riese. He identified himself as Mitra."

John couldn't believe it. "Is he hurt? Is there anyone with him?"

"He came in here with a wound on his shoulder, but he'll live-"

John grabbed the soldier by the collar and shoved him against the switchboard with incredible strength.

"What _kind_ of wound?" John whispered.

"He said he was bitten, sir."

John took a step backwards, his eyes hollow and his mouth hanging open.

"You fools," John whispered. "You've damned us all!"

Then there was an inhuman scream outside, followed by a few slightly more human ones.

Immediately, John started rushing around, tripping alarms and destroying documents in a mad rush.

"All personnel, evacuate immediately! The zombies have breached the perimeter! I repeat, GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE!

"Spread out and cover the perimeter from outside the fence. Whatever you do, don't let them escape!"

John heard bursts of gunfire and screams of terror as his men were ripped apart by the growinghorde. But John had a plan in place for this.

He made his way to the power room, shoving past groups of soldiers and terrified scientists running for the perimeter.

John drew his .45 from his waistband, ready for action.

He glanced left and right of the power switch in front of him, making sure the area was clear of the undead.

He finally grabbed the massive switch and yanked it down, hearing the humming of the generator disappear in an instant. He did this so that the main gate could not be opened from the inside or out. However, this switch didn't control the electric fences around the perimeter, as those would be vital in the next hours.

Suddenly, a zombie charged him from the left.

Before he could open fire, the beast swung its clawed hand downward, severing John's left hand at the forearm. It was still curled around the power switch when he reeled backward.

John turned and emptied his entire magazine into the beast, the high caliber bullets tossing it aside.

He screamed in pain as blood sprayed onto the floor, dampening his boots with hot red. _The thing had actually taken his hand off!_

He ran full speed down an escape shaft that only he knew about, nearly falling down the ladder climbing one-handed.

He lost his hand, and his hand was still attached to the power switch, but he would survive.

He would survive.


End file.
